HUH?

"Simone" and "Sam" have been forced to go on the Lam, after some sloppy security work exposed them to their potential "enemies". Fortunately, they've found help through the SBPP.("Sex Bloggers Protection Program"). Follow their adventures here until its safe for them to resume their prior alter-egos.

Thursday, December 31, 2009

Yesterday was one of those rare days when Mistress and Slave had only one sexual opportunity. Yes, it was my normal abstinence day, but even on those days, Mistress’s deserves to be satisfied in full measure. And she was short changed. Truth be told, it made us both a little edgy and snappish. Can you be sexually addicted to your spouse? If so we were exhibiting withdrawal symptoms by yesterday afternoon.

The day began with some work and a much too long conference call with folks who apparently have different priorities during the Christmas / New Year’s interregnum. But it pays the bills.

By the time my call was done, the teens were up and munching Cap’n Crunch, and we had to get rolling towards our date with the fresh powder that had fallen overnight.

The new fallen snow was a joy, though our legs felt the extra effort by the end of the day. Then Slave had a mission to fuel up and gather provisions at the local organic grocery for our New Year’s Day fest.

By the time I returned, Mistress was tucked into our warm bed reading. I wanted her, badly. She told me to strip, and fetch her black glove, depicted here.

As I crawled under the sheets, I was greeted by Mistress’s toasty and alluring nakedness. My leg slid between hers as we kissed. Finally.Within seconds, I was ready to enter her, and my fingers discovered that Mistress was ready too.

But Mistress was in no hurry. She directed her Slave to lay back and proceeded to use the soft texture of her black glove to assure that my cock met her demanding standards.

In the meantime, my fingers worked their way inside her and soon had her hips pumping against them. Her first orgasm seemed to relieve the tension of her own nearly 24 hours of abstinence. All the while Mistress worked me with her glove, waiting to hear the desperation in my voice as I begged to fuck her. She was not disappointed.

Finally, Mistress relented and allowed me to enter her. Buried deep inside now, I worked my own hips side to side against her for several minutes, bringing her to the brink again, all the while toying with her nipples with fingers and lips. I asked her if she would like to feel some would be Dom tease and torture those lovely little buds with a more determined purpose. “Yes, Slave”, she sighed, in that desperate voice she uses when so very close to the edge. I then slid back just enough to make some room for my fingers between where we were joined. My fingers teased a shuddering conclusion from her, her head thrown back as she vocalized her pleasure.

My mission done, it was not long before I was begging. And here’s where Mistress threw a change up. She usually relents immediately when I ask “Mistress may I come”, with a generous, “Yes, Slave”.

But yesterday on the Mountain, in some brief moments of solitude, she suggested she might impose abstinence on me after all, because my morning call had interfered with her rights as a Mistress. Maybe, she would not give me the permission I had become too accustomed to enjoying, she suggested with that teasing look on her face.

Of course, in my heated passion, I forgot the warnings I had heard hours earlier. I falsely assumed permission would be granted immediately and waited a tad too long for the begging part. When she responded, “No, Slave. I want to hear you beg some more”, I was a second past the point of no return. And though I did beg some more, and Mistress, within seconds granted permission….

I confess that a good batch of my fluids had already been released on their search and fertilize mission. Sorry, Mistress. I suspect some type of punishment is in order.

Eliminating that presumption needs to be at the top of Slave’s list of New Year’s resolutions.

Wednesday, December 30, 2009

It was another laid back day of skiing and relaxing with friends and family as our year comes to a placid, yet torrid, end. This morning’s entry may be a little abbreviated because of some annoying work raising its head. What’s with these folk who can’t simply say: “we’ll deal with it in the New Year.”

My bottom was still tingling yesterday morning from the thwacking of the night before. And I was particularly horny. It had been more than 12 hours since that cropping! I remember waking with an achingly hard cock, but did not want to disturb your beauty rest.

After I did my homework yesterday morning you called me to be. You were wearing one of the items I got you for Christmas, shown here for our reader(s). We then re-established our proper routine: you reading, me buried between your legs. So by the time you set aside your computer, you were wet and ready for me to take you over the edge. When you were satisfied, you gave me permission to fuck you, and it seemed I came more quickly than normal, with permission, of course. I hope you did not feel cheated. I hate to leave you with an orgasm ratio of less than 2 to 1.

We abbreviated the ski day due to cold weather and a cranky boarder girl, so got home mid-afternoon ready for our “rest”. Once we finished the food prep for the evening (Mistress has a scrumptious lasagna recipe) we closed the bedroom door behind us. Settled into bed with some hot tea, we reviewed our correspondence, and particularly Desiree’s description in Dom/sub/Love of her being able to “orgasm on command” by her Master.http://blog.domsublove.com/2009/12/29/surrender-to-master/

As we shall see, that seemed to inspire us an hour or so later.

Once our prurient reading and e-mailing was done, you directed me to undress and reached for your long black glove. It’s a particular treat to feel its soft texture glide along my hardening shaft. As my mind reeled with arousal, you switched to your practice regime of using mouth and tongue to drive me even crazier. I guess this was my reward for enduring the cropping the night before with some degree of courage.

My fingers had found my way , to those soft, juicy parts between your legs, and soon had you tipping over the edge. You then succumbed to my pleas to let me fuck you.

I slid inside where you were wet and welcoming, your gloved hand cupping my balls and positioning me the way you wanted. As we worked one another to the brink, I asked you to consider the type of training by some potential Dom that would be required to make you come on command as Desiree had described. WE discussed the code words and directions that would make you drip for him without a touch. These thoughts seemed to be compelling, Mistress. I lost track of how many times you came as we went through these options, all of which seemed to make you even more responsive to the cock pumping into you.

Finally these thoughts also had me begging for permission, which you generously granted. We ended in a sodden heap, and it was nap time.

The day ended with another, more romantic interlude: us dancing to a favorite balladeer, in an old Rathskeller at the top of the Mountain, the snow falling hard and heavy outside. Hard to think about returning to the River City in a few more days.

Tuesday, December 29, 2009

My bottom still tingles from Mistress’s hard and well deserved cropping yesterday evening. What put me in Mistress’s bad graces?

The day started on a good note for this Slave. I rose early, worked on my morning homework, then awaited Mistress’s call back to bed. As I climbed into bed, the room was still dark, awaiting the sunrise over the mountains behind our little retreat. We pressed close, and found that our quickening mutual desires would break our morning routine – rather than Mistress reading my work product while I suckled between her legs, she simply went for my quickly hardening cock. After we were done, she graded my work, and approved the alluring photo that was later posted. I hope our reader(s) enjoyed the sight of her lovely ass, encased in lacy black panties Slave got Mistress for Christmas.

After a day of skiing with too many Texans on crowded slopes, we collected the teens and the boyfriend and headed back to our humble shelter, where the “grown-ups” retreated to their bedroom for our late afternoon “rest” period.

First, we reviewing and responding to some lively emails from some of our newly found friends. Our Male Slave friend from the North had asked for details about what Mistress had speculated about the night before on the subject of he and his Mistress joining us here in the future, sans teens. Our response: “That’s subject to the Mistress/slave privilege. But use your imagination.”

His imagination (and our imaginations about him and his Mistress) quickly led to some robust activity between Mistress and Slave. Mistress directed me to insert that little white probe into my ass, no doubt because she likes what it does to my cock and to her Slave’s state of mind. After practicing the use of her mouth to reduce slave to a begging fool, she allowed me to fuck her. So I did ,while extending the tale of our friends’ fantasy visit in ways that seemed to make her very, very orgasmic. So, an assist goes to M and B.

When we finished, I fell into a deep sleep, and at some point Mistress wandered off to the shower. I woke after the sun had set. We still had some time before our dinner engagement, so Mistress read and answered emails for a bit, as Slave rested beside her. She called my attention to a photo on her laptop screen sent by a friend, that included Mistress posing with a married lesbian couple – colleagues from back in River City.

Here’s where Slave got into trouble. I noted how strikingly beautiful the woman in the photo next to Mistress was. And she is. But my mistake was not to also mention how beautiful and attractive Mistress was in that same photo. And she definitely was. (wish we could show you the photo, but national security concerns prevent it).

Naturally, this angered Mistress. She understands that all men are stupid, and that a wandering eye is different than a wandering cock. But she has every right to expect her Slave to worship her exclusively in every way, whether her body or her image. To the extent I had suggested that she was somehow less beautiful than the woman posing next to her, I had failed in my duties to her. My attempts at digging out of the hole I had dug for myself were futile.

I went to the shower then, as Mistress stewed. When I dried off, she considered my punishment: should she require me to wear that anal probe out to dinner? I suggested that could get a little yucky. She considered the possibilities and agreed. Then she told me to fetch the riding crop. I handed it to her with some anticipation / trepidation. I know that a good cropping has a wonderful impact on my attitude when it’s over. But it hurts like hell when in progress.

She ordered me to lay face down on the bed, hands over my head. The radio was turned on and up, to muffle any sounds that might confuse the teens in the other room. Then she removed her underwear, pressed them to my face and told me to open wide. Stuffing her lacy, mauve undies into my open mouth, she explained that she did not want me to disturb the children with my whines of complaint.

As she began to thwack my ass with the crop she cross-examined me:

“Slave, do you find other women attractive?”. When I answered with a muffled no, shaking my head for emphasis, She called me a liar, and gave me a few more thwacks in earnest. I relented, and attempted to express, through the panties in my mouth, that, yes, sometimes other women do catch my eye.

“Slave, do you want to fuck any other women”. I answered “No”, and again she called me a liar, thwacking away, demanding that I tell the truth. But I did not change my story on that one, insisting that I do not want to fuck other women. And it’s true. That seems to be out of Slave’s system. I am quite content as a one Mistress man. (Though Mistress does have a lend/lease right in our contract. ) After a few more blows with the black leather crop, Mistress seemed to accept this explanation.

When her questioning was done, Mistress added a few more strokes for good measure, then put down the crop. My punishment seemed to make her feel better. She lay down beside me, gently rubbing my stinging bottom, assuring me of her love. And as my pulse began to slow, my cock began to respond in the way it often does after Mistress’s punishments. I guess I am just another one of Pavlov’s dogs. Mistress remarked about its thickening, and handled it a bit, but she was satisfied from our earlier efforts and felt no need to indulge me further. Though I was a bit frustrated, I was more than happy to be back in Mistress’s good graces.

She did photograph my bottom, and directed me to post it with today’s entry. “A little humiliation is good for you, Slave.” So there you have it, after a bit of additional cropping. My right cheek. A bit red and puffy. Believe me, you don’t want to see the whole thing, crack and all.

Soon we were dressed and out the door with the teens, for a festive evening of friends, drinks and dancing. But throughout, the tingling of my bottom reminded me that I needed to be a good Slave, or face the consequences.

Monday, December 28, 2009

Sunday morning was an early rise for this Slave. I wanted to finish an entry started the day before (my uncompleted homework assignment), and bring our readers up to date with Saturday’s activities. It was a no-ski day because of a road trip required to pick up surly teen number 1’s boyfriend at the airport….about 3 hours away.

When my work was done and Mistress called for me from our bedroom, I dutifully responded, and she opened up her laptop to enjoy my work, while I positioned myself between her legs.

Mistress got some new lingerie from her Slave for Christmas, and she was wearing some new lacy black panties that matched her top (see the photo). It was one of those mornings when I was in no hurray to remove her panties. I just pressed my mouth and tongue against her there, using the slightest motion to agitate her as she read my account, that featured the stimulus we derived from new found friends in blog-land.

When Mistress put down her computer, she seemed surprised when I did not “finish my job”, but instead retreated to a bathroom cabinet, where our little portable Bondage kit was stored. It was our “switch” day. “Oh…I was hoping you had forgotten”, she said, but her smile suggested otherwise.

AS she languished in bed, I fastened red leather cuffs to her wrists, securing them with tiny locks. I then clipped her wrists together overhead, and used a handy rope to secure them to an eyebolt screwed to the wooden head of our bed. (I sometimes wonder what folks who borrow our little mountain cabin think of these little accessories, including the eyebolt screwed to a ceiling beam, or the riding crop hardly hidden in the closet).

Mistress was now on her stomach, her bottom available to me, still in those lacy black panties. With teens in our small house, I knew I had to keep the volume to a minimum, so I gently rubbed her ass until she was squirming nicely in anticipation of what was to come. It’s fun to keep Mistress guessing when I get the chance.

Then I began to spank her. Not particularly hard. It’s really not in me to inflict any real punishment on Mistress. That task will be left to the Master who steps forward and tries to make Mistress submit to her.

But the spanking I did administer – interrupted with occasional forays with probing fingers between her legs – soon had Mistress squirming even more, and moaning into the pillow under her head.

I retrieved a small v-shaped silicone vibrator from our bag of tricks, and turned it on. Lifting back the panel of her black panties, I slid one end of the V into her sopping cunt, while the other end pressed between her outer lips. As her hips squirmed against the bed with increasing agitation, Mistress was in position to make herself come.

As she ground against the bed, hands still tied over head, I lay next to her, one hand still massaging her pert bottom, and asked her to consider what it would be like to be spanked hard and with purpose by someone who actually would make her beg for permission to come. That thought seemed to make Mistress even more agitated, and soon her grinding against the bed led to a moaning, thrashing orgasm which left her limp in her bonds, yet now begging, “Fuck me, Slave”.

My cock had been pressed against her hip as Mistress brought herself to orgasm, and I was more than ready to help Mistress roll over and accommodate her needs. Though I am her Slave, there is something compelling about having a woman of such beauty helpless before me, wet, writhing and begging for a good fucking. I took my time to position her, finally sliding off those black panties and then filling her in a way that seemed to please her.

At this point I was in no hurry, so took my time to force another orgasm from Mistress before asking “Mistress, may I come”. (I just can’t shed my Slave persona, even on our switch days…guess I really am a Sub Hubby at heart).

After recovering from our mutual stupor, I released Mistress from her bonds, and she resumed command.

Later that morning, we headed to the airport, teens in tow. Mistress fiddled with her I-Phone when reception was available, and commented (in M/ s code) that she had received charming photos from our new found friend to the North, M, who is also a Slave to his Wife’s desires. She seemed interested.

Later, as I sat in the cell lot, and Mistress was in the airport retrieving boyfriend and his bags, she texted “M has sent us a new story. Hot.” She was right, and I suspect what got Mistress particularly hot was M’s story about his earlier DOM-er days. Lots of spanking and strong handed sex. Something Mistress has a hankering to experience.

By the time we got back to our Cabin, sun was down and the moon lit up the snow fields. We helped boyfriend settle in, unpacked provisions for the next few days, poured glasses of wine, and retreated to the bedroom, leaving the rest of the place a Parent free zone.

After face-booking and reading the Sunday Times a bit, our talk turned to Mistress’s e-mailed invitation to our new friends to visit us some day at our undisclosed location (well, we have told them where we are, and it’s not so far away). Mistress speculated on how that sort of visit would evolve, and her thoughts even made this slave blush.

Of course, this speculation amounted to mental foreplay, as we closed our day with another session between our sheets, starting with Mistress brushing up on her oral skills, followed by more Slave begging for permission to slide inside. Mistress often threatens to make me come in her mouth, but then reconsiders. “Why waste a good, hard cock”, seems to be her philosophy. And who can blame her.

It was a cold but happy Christmas here in our undisclosed location. It was a special pleasure to exchange gifts with the fire blazing; to ski with the girls in the numbing cold; then to come back here for lunch and some extended rest time, the obligatory calls to family done, and a few hours to spare before heading to dinner with our amigos from Texas.

In no rush, we napped and read and napped some more, before we turned to enjoy one another’s bodies. I offered to worship you on my knees, but that would have required to pull back the covers, and Mistress was still a little chilled from the near zero temperatures. Instead we got into a clench, legs intertwined, with my hand sliding between your thighs. As we kissed, by fingers worked you there until you came with a murmur and groan, muffled as your face was buried into my neck.

I was more than ready by then, and asked permission to fuck you then and there. But you wanted to toy with me first, and you used your fingers, then your mouth to tease me to an even firmer state. Somehow, in this process you rotated to a position on your stomach (or did I prod you there?), and I used my hand to massage your tight bottom for a while before asking for the right to enter you that way.

This is something that seems to be an increasing part of our sexual escapades, Mistress. And also something that casts your Slave in a more Dom-ish role. As I slid into you, I asked you to speculate that a Dom who might exercise ownership rights over you someday would limit your right to enjoy this particular sex act with your lowly Slave. Rules are rules after all, and it’s always possible that your limited rights would NOT include sex from behind with anyone BUT a Master. My point: we had better enjoy these opportunities while we can. And we did, as you came with a gasp, pressing your ass back into me, your head buried in your arms. You came one more time after I had first eased back, then increased my pace as I pumped into you.

It’s harder for me to come that way, but I was oh so close … just on the edge. Ultimately, I gave up, sensitive to abusing your tender back muscles. I slid from you and rolled you over. Your face was wet with tears as you begged me to fuck you. (Yes, it was Mistress who was begging. Nice.) I was anxious to oblige, and soon was back inside you, pumping with a desperation that soon had me begging and crossing over that edge once you granted permission.

That evening we had Christmas dinner with some our Texas friends and their extended family. I tried my best to be attentive in the crowd, though the opportunity to serve you sexually did not arise. By the time the evening was done we were ready for sleep.

When I woke on the 26th, I had some work to attend to, so my homework was an “incomplete”. (I hate to leave you or our readers without reading material, and was fortunate I was not punished).

You called me to bed as I was typing away on the first part of this entry, and I apologized for my late work product. You were understanding, and soon we were kissing, fucking and coming in the relaxed but satisfying way like the old married couple that we are.

When we were through taking our pleasure from one another I switched to the task of rearranging travel plans for a surly teen’s boy friend. When I finally finished my delicate negotiations with Delta, an angrily awakened surly teen, and her boyfriend, I turned to find you reading through ‘Nilla’s 2nd installment of her story loosely based on our adventures.

You casually commented that we should be in no rush to hit the slopes in the 4 degree weather this am. Obviously, ‘Nilla’s crafty storytelling has more than replaced my missing homework when it came to reigniting Mistress’s desire.

Her story features some cruel nipple clamping on the Mistress turned Sub, which gave me a good excuse to pull out a Christmas present for you that I did not have you open in front of the girls.

This was an experiment you had been dreading. But we owed it to Science to try these out on your little pink darlings. I sucked gently on your left nipple until it was nice and firm. I attempted to adjust the clamps until they were not at “full pinch”. But the problem was that as so adjusted they would not hold on, but simply slid off after a little pinch was delivered.

Re-grouping, I eliminated the “cushion” and tried the clip at full strength on you. That was a success, in that the clip did not just pop off. But the tight clamp seemed very painful to Mistress. This did not make me a popular Slave, and the clamp was quickly removed.

You then tried one on my tiny little nipples. Pain. Shooting all through my body like a lightening bolt. But yes, erotic. Again, the clamp quickly was removed, as the pain seemed to exceed any erotic benefit (to me, at least).

Lessons learned: 1) need smaller/ different clamps; 2) subject must be tied down when application occurs; 3) gag a necessity if teens are in the house. (Look forward to any recommendations our readers might have on this subject).

While this effort was less than a successful experiment, it did get our juices flowing again, only about an hour after our last encounter. So credit to ‘Nilla for her inspiration of round two of our day.

After a somewhat shorter but invigorating ski day, we returned home for our afternoon rest period. Settling into bed with some hot green tea we indulged ourselves with some reading and a nap. Before I dozed off, the sun was illuminating the mountains visible through our bedroom window. But when I finally stirred again, the snow dappled mountains were long past their alpen glow, and were dimly lit by the half moon above.

Before we went to sleep we read over a stunning tale sent via email that morning from a new correspondent to our north, a man who had finally submitted to his wife after some years of taking the upper hand. He wrote about a particular exploit from his youth, as he dominated another man’s wife at a disco.

His story resonated with you and your slave, and as we woke from our nap and turned to one another, his e-mail became an inspiration for some murmured encouragements and speculations about you coming under the spell of a would be Dom later that evening when we listened to a local rocker at a raucous Cantina. We were still groggy from our nap, but you seemed a woman possessed as you sucked my cock until it was too hard for me to bear any longer. By then I was the Slave possessed, fucking you with a frenzy, as I imagined how you would respond to the type of nightclub overture our new friend had described.

So yesterday we did get assists from our friends to compensate for my delayed homework. It’s good to have them along for the ride. And nice to think maybe we are sparking their imaginations too.

Saturday, December 26, 2009

Mistress has taken to wearing this rather powerful looking bra for our evening outings during our trip this week. When she's is dressing (or undressing) the combination of this bra and her black tights has a rather stimulating effect on her Slave.

Mistress does seem to enjoy it when I squeeze her breasts throught this bra, as I did one evening in the restroom of a local Japanese restaurant.

Friday, December 25, 2009

Merry Christmas, Mistress. My first one as your Slave. Hopefully many more, “if the fates allow”, as the song goes.

The house is quiet, our little tree lit up and the lights still blinking outside flashing off the chimisa bushes, where its supposed to be 4 below right now. I posted your favorite Christmas carol for this season on our Twit page to share with all those curious “followers”. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VcKRWlWG5Z8We got a nice comment from a couple keeping up with our blog who say they live near a ski area. Hope their Christmas is warm, cozy and kinky. I wonder if they are near us?

(BTW, we love comments, and have struck up some interesting private email chats with some of you. So keep them up, and don’t be afraid to reach out to our email address, other than that crazy truck driver from Toledo. Got no use for his world view).

Soon the two teens will be up to unwrap their presents. I have two for you we probably can’t show the children. But I look forward to trying then out with you, maybe on our upcoming switch Sunday, unless you use them on me first.

Yesterday was filled with skiing, cooking, attending an ancient ritual, and then entertaining our friends for a Christmas Eve dinner of Chili, salad and apple crisp. It was fun to sit in front of the fire, at your feet and massage them. Last night Joe kept his hands under control. His wife must have spoken to him about keeping his hands to himself.

While we were too busy / tired for our typical afternoon and evening sex activity, it’s worth reporting on how our morning unfolded.

I did my homework, and then worshipped your scrumptious cunt for a while as you read. You came with those little jerks and gasps once you put your laptop down. Then I came up for air and shared the details of my dream.

It’s a subject I am not writing about for reasons we have discussed. But it did seem to get us both going. I asked for permission to fuck you, and my fingers buried inside you suggested you were more than ready. Instead, you directed me to lie back, and proceeded to make me even harder with your lips and tongue, until I had to beg rather than simply ask permission. Soon I was deep inside you, and enjoyed the complement you gave me about how very hard I was. It seems I have been hearing that from you a lot lately, but a guy in his 50’s never tires of that sort of flattery.

After we spent ourselves, I made us some coffee, and we settled into bed to read a bit before getting to work on our food prep. As you climbed out of bed, you commented on the sight of my cock, flashing out of the dark terry robe I was wearing. Standing over me in a particularly dominant pose, you reached out to fondle it, and, of course, it stirred, though it had only been about 30 minutes since our last extravaganza.

Wearing that short, silky black top with no panties, you straddled me me, grinding yourself against my cock until it hardened more for you.

I assumed you would take me that way, as is your right. But you apparently wanted to make sure I was even harder, to suit your exacting standards, before allowing me inside. You abruptly climbed from bed, and retrieved that long black glove you use to torment me. Your hand, now encased in soft leather, cupped my balls and stroked me. Soon you had a tool more than ready to please you.

You mounted me then, and took your time to pump yourself against until you had a shuddering orgasm, then reached behind me with your gloved hand to clasp my balls and order me to come that way.

It’s always a bit harder for me that way, but very, very satisfying. But this was my second performance of the morning. I was oh so close, and oh so desperate, but just could not make it to the top of that particular mountain, despite the teasing of your glove and the view I had of your strong and sensuous body writhing above me.

Ultimately you showed me mercy and let us flip positions. Soon I came with great relief, with your permission. Yet I probably do deserve some punishment for failing to deliver when and as ordered, Mistress.

Now its time to get ready for our Christmas morning, but I hope we get to give one another a special Christmas present before the teens wake to demand their gifts.

Thursday, December 24, 2009

I woke up early this am, pressed against you, cock coming to life with a dream in my head that I won’t share with our reader(s), but will share with you, if and when directed. Suffice it to say, that dream had a lot to do with my highly charged state.

Before pulling away from you, I began to compose in my brain this morning’s homework assignment. I realized that, like any good vacation, the routine and relaxation was creating a bit of a blur for me. When was that? Was it yesterday? The day before?

But these are the things that came to mind, no doubt out of sequence:

·Climbing into bed, yesterday morning I think, you in those gauzy green panties I gave you a Christmas or two ago. They are so thin that I like to suck on you through them, using my hands to spread your thighs, and sometimes hooking a finger underneath to press inside you probing for that little spot that sends you over the edge. And it seems you like to come for me that way, bucking against my mouth.

·Summarizing the details of ‘Nilla’s latest story, based on her hyper-charged extension of a story line in our own blog, then begging you for the right to come.

·Under the covers with you, both of us naked, after a day on the slopes, exploring each other’s bodies with fingers and mouths, in no rush to finish each other off.

·Me asking for permission to worship your bottom, still cold to the touch from a day outside. Then taking the time to cover it with kisses while my hand probed between your legs.

·Sliding a pillow under your hips, before sliding into you gently from behind, inch by inch. Then listening to your labored breathing as you came once, then twice that way. It’s become a new favorite position.

·After we were done, going to sleep at your side as you sorted through your facebook friends.

·Pressing you against the wall in the restroom of that Japanese restaurant last night, roughly handling your breasts, then sliding my finger between your legs, your cunt responding to my touch. Wish we had taken the time to finish you off there, but the teens were waiting.

·Sitting on the Bar, listening to the Piano Man, a bit groggy from Saki and beer, sliding my hand up the leg of your jeans to massage your calf. Our friends must think I am a bit loco.

Now its Christmas Eve and some fresh snow is on the ground. We have children and friends to entertain, and ancient rituals to observe. It’s good to be creating some new rituals of our own, Mistress.

Wednesday, December 23, 2009

Skiing with our children is fun. But all that time on the ski lift with the surly teens does cut into a Mistress and Slave’s intimacy time. It’s hard to do the post-clinch analysis we typically engage in when your daughter is sitting next to you, even with her I-pod cranked up. So we did not have the time yesterday to de-brief on our incendiary encounter in the closet from the evening before the way we would have liked.

By the time our Ski day was done, we were both happy to hide out in our room, first to check our emails, and then to pick off where we had left off. (The attached photo shows Mistress stripped to her skiing undies, doing an email check).

When you were ready for me, you suggested that I lose the underwear, and insert that little plastic probe. You like what it does to my cock. Of course, these were not mere suggestions, and I responded dutifully. There is something about being penetrated like that at your command that brings out the slave in me, and makes me all the more determined to please you.

Your ski undies are significantly thicker than your black tights, but I did enjoy the texture of them as I climbed into bed and slid next to you. You let me use my hand to massage you gently through them, until your hips began to make those little bucking motions against me that signal your increasing arousal. By the time I slid my hand inside those thick black long-johns, you were sopping. And our running dialog about what happened the night before seemed to make you all the hotter, until you came shuddering against my fingers with that lovely low moan of yours.

By now my cock was hard and demanding. Your fingers egging it on had their desired effect. And I clumsily struggled to yank off your ski-wear to make way for it. But you wanted to suck first (getting into practice, Mistress?).

You are very excellent in the deployment of your oral skills, Mistress. Though I am your Slave, I still have a bit of pride, and sometimes I am too proud to beg for the right to fuck you. I like to see how long I can last as you try to break my will. The light, teasing touch of your tongue along my shaft brought me to the brink. You kept me there for a while using fingers, mouth and tongue with deft skill until I could not take anymore, and you had me begging.

Thankfully, you were merciful and granted my wish. Hopefully you enjoyed the benefits of the hard cock that you had brought forth, as I took my time once allowed inside. I just remember a throbbing, multi-stage orgasm which left me ready for a long lazy afternoon nap as the light faded over the mountain.

Last night we took the girls back to our favorite local Cantina, where locals gathered for their annual Christmas sing - along. It was a family night, and we even provoked the cynical teens to put down their texting devices long enough to sing some with the crowd. Sweet.

The teens hitched a ride home with a friend, so we actually got to ride home alone, and talk about how we landed in this strange new world of D/s, and a sex life that seems other worldly.

My observation was that it began in July, 2008, when I realized I had to give up my traditional macho, aloof persona and let you take the lead in our sexual activities. After that, as each encounter has led to the next, my enslavement by you has become deeper. So that it has become natural for you to call me Slave (we have to be careful of that in public but slip some times). And I am your slave.

As a clever Mistress, you have deployed a number of tactics and tools to enhance my submission, step by step over a year and a half, so that certain words, actions, signals can begin to make me hard even without physical contact. You have gotten inside my head, and these benign manipulations have created a Slave that I hope is worthy of you. I really am addicted to your taste, smell and the texture of your skin.

I mention this in the context of your prospective submission to Sir. I wonder whether his skills are such that he will enslave you in that step by step process you have deployed so skillfully on me. If so, I suspect it will be a rewarding, and very exciting process for you, Mistress. Though I suspect your will to resist may be greater than mine has been. You will both be tested.

When we got home we really were tired and groggy, and were both determined to stick by the decision to pass for the night. But there were some second thoughts on my part, as I saw you stripped to your black tights and bra. I snapped a few photos to share with our reader(s) later. And of course after the photos were taken, I could not help feel you through your tights.

And when you pressed against me in the closet, unbuttoned my cowboy shirt and undid my belt, you knew what effect you were having on me, laughed and backed away. That was kind of you mistress, not to intentionally make me hard only to make me chill until morning.

I did ask for permission to worship a bit, and knelt on the floor, sliding my mouth against you through the tights, taking in your scent. But you ultimately said “No Mas”, apparently having hit your orgasm capacity for the day. I took satisfaction on a day’s work well done.

Tuesday, December 22, 2009

You have my cock very well trained by now. Once an hour or so goes by after my last release with you, it seems that any physical contact between it and your soft skin, makes it begin to tingle and go full. This presents a problem when we sleep the way we both like, me pressed against you in our “little” double bed. My tingling cock woke me again this morning, so I had to role over and, eventually, climb out of bed in these pre-dawn hours. Might as well do my homework and leave you to your beauty rest, before we take the surly teens back up for more skiing today.

Last night I got to dance with you at that nearby roadhouse, where we enjoy watching the locals do their two-step twirl to the steel guitar. It was hard to miss the cowboys admiring you, Mistress. We had a long, enjoyable evening drinking wine and eating enchiladas with our Texas friends.

We both were tired when we headed home, and I assumed it was one of those evenings when we would “wait until morning”. After all, we had some very satisfying activity in the morning, and again during our rest time after our ski day. Shouldn’t twice a day be enough?

You were wearing your black tights under those tight velvet pants, finished off with some black cowboy boots. Sort of a sexy Annie Oakley of she had ever discovered her Domme side.

After I finished some end of day tasks, I came into our room to find you stripped down to the tights and a black strapless bra. Nice. Sexy.

I stripped down to my briefs, and we found ourselves squeezed into our narrow walk-in closet, where I was hanging up my pants and jacket, and you were stowing your boots. You had an intriguing look on your face. Was your mind on an email you had checked? Maybe, that was just my imagination. But mischief now was clearly on your agenda.

Suddenly, I found myself pressed against you, your back to the wall, and we kissed deeply. I like the feel of you through those tights, and my hand could not help but slide between your legs. You seemed damp and squishy, Mistress, and you sort of melted into me when my hand did that.

I asked you why this sudden change of trajectory. I thought our plan was to “pass” until morning. Instead of answering, you slid your fingers into my shorts, and laughed at how hard I was becoming.

We kissed some more in the closet, our fingers doing their work, before we headed for bed. So much for our plan to “pass”.

I like it when you keep those black tights on for a while. And while I stroked you through them, you on your back, me at your side, you wondered out loud how what it was that seemed to turn us both on about your desire to submit to another man.

“Let’s talk about it while you make me come”, you directed.

So we talked as my hand did the work you had directed. You mentioned my posting from back in November, about the qualifications and exploits of a prospective part-time Dom. Someone who would do the things that a well trained Slave just can’t do, when it comes to scratching that submissive itch that you had discovered.

As my fingers slid over you, first slowly and then with more urgency, the panel of your tights began to soak through, and the scent of your arousal began to cloud my brain. Of course the friction of my cock against your thigh contributed to that clouding. But despite my obvious mental impairment, you insisted that I recite from memory the little shopping list from that posting – the one that your prospective Dom unearthed as he researched your candidacy for submission.

I doubt I was able to do a very good job, but here is the list again, in case you want to test how well I did last night as we both drove each other crazy:

If E has really vanished for now as a source of amusement in your life, we need to consider finding you someone else with sufficient imagination, physical attributes and commitment who might indulge your occasional need to surrender control better than this humble Slave. Though I do will gladly act as a surrogate as best I can, particularly on our Sunday mornings, it’s pretty obvious that I can’t be trusted in the full time Dom role in your life. Plus it’s so very nice to be your Slave. Who would want to give up a role of a lifetime? (think Jason Alexander here).

Finding the perfect part-time Dom for you will not be easy. But the effort in itself might be fun. And there is no deadline. Here are some of the attirbutes to consider, from my observations of your psyche and desires, though I am probably blending in some qualities that would turn me on to hear about or observe should HE be found. You should feel free to edit or add as you see fit:

1. He would be in the 40-60 age range, well educated, handsome, taller than 5’ 10”.2. He would “get” you, be interesting to talk to, with musical tastes ranging more towards Neil Young or Classical than Prince or Rap.3. He would be willing and able to interact with you on a regular basis, either by phone, email, or text, and would arrange for you to meet him in person at least every few months, if not more frequently.4. He would demand your total submission to him when in his presence, requiring you to address him as “Sir” or “Master”, in person or on the phone.5. He would administer spankings with his hand or a hairbrush to put you in the proper frame of mind for such submission, or to punish you if you get out of hand or impertinent.6. He would tie your hands, and make you kneel to suck his cock.7. He would tie you to the bed or other objects, to give him ready access to your delicious body.8. He would be so attracted to your lovely body and charming personality that you could tell, despite his stern demeanor, that he was dying to take you the moment he laid eyes on you.9. He would take you whenever and however her desired – whether over his desk, or in the middle of the night, when you were fast asleep.10. He would make you kneel and play with yourself while he was “working” on more important matters.11. He would make you beg for the privilege of coming, but not always give you what you beg for.12. You would be so compelled by his authority that whenever you heard the chime of a text from him, or saw an email pop up from him, your cunt would go liquid.13. He would establish rules for you when not in his presence, involving times when you could or could not touch yourself. Or requiring you to email him what you were thinking when you touched yourself at his direction.14. He would call from time to time and demand that you touch yourself during the conversation, though he would not always give you the permission to come.15. If you please him and he decides to make you his part-time slave, He would want to put his mark on you, either through a discretely placed tattoo or piercing.

Am I missing something? Is anything on the list not what would help you scratch that itch, Mistress?

In reviewing the list, it’s obvious I missed a few items in our frenzy last night. At some point you said “I want to feel your hand on my skin”, so I helped you strip off those now soaked black tights, and began anew on you. We both seemed to be dragging out the process as you built to one of those mega-orgasms involving sobs, tears and a total emotional surrender to the moment.

Through the tears you said, “Fuck me, Slave”, and I did, in no rush to finish the job, just enjoying your warm cunt, your labored breathing, and the texture of your neck and shoulders pressed against my face. When I finally begged you for permission to come, you were generous, and I exploded into you, my desperation finally brought to a merciful end in waves that seemed to last and last.

Monday, December 21, 2009

We had a lovely day skiing with the teens out here to start our Christmas Holidays. And despite the exercise, sunshine, altitude, mountain air, tree trimming and dinner at home with our Texas friends, we still seemed to keep our sexual adventures in overdrive.

I had woken early and hard, my cock having trouble adjusting to the time change. So I adjourned to do my homework for you. By the time you awoke and said you were ready for me to return to bed, the light was just emerging over the mountains. I handed you the computer and you read, as I enjoyed my time to slowly tease your cunt with my tongue. When you finish up and grade my work, it’s typical that I would bring you to orgasm that way, before getting my turn.

But it was Sunday, our normal switch day, so I disengaged my tongue, despite your grunt of disapproval, pulled up a chair, and hauled you over my lap. Stroking you gently at first, I asked you to consider Vanilla Mom’s blog about meeting an imaginary Dom somewhere for his first “inspection”. As the story developed, I proceeded to batter your delicious bottom with my palm, until you were panting and squirming.

But unlike other spankings, when you might come with my fingers stimulating you, you moaned and begged “make love to me Slave”. Your need to switch to a more comfortable and loving position struck a nerve, and of course I always want to obey and please you, even when we switch roles. So I led you back to the bed, where your body was so warm, soft and inviting. The spanking seemed to have made all of your muscles relax, even the ones in your cunt, and you opened and took me with extraordinary ease. I finished you, holding your hands above your head and pumping into you.

After a fine day in the high mountain sun (need to remember suns screen today), we returned to our cottage for our afternoon “rest”. (The girls must think their old, fuddy duddy parents sleep too much).

Truth be told, as much fun as it is to ski our local mountains in the blazing sun, the time of the day I most look forward to is this R & R period after a day outside, and before we jump into our evening activities.

You changed into something “more comfortable”, from your alluring lingerie collection, and I stripped, naked as you like me. As you read for a while, I monitored the progress of our local NFL team. But the day’s discussions about choices and options you were considering had me edgy with desire.

Soon the computer and book were shunted aside, and I was using my fingers to bring you to orgasm as we talked about your decision to submit to Sir. Then you used your hand to bring me to the edge, begging for the chance to fuck you. Ultimately you relented, and I was rewarded with the opportunity to slide inside you again and get the relief I needed so badly by then.

We both napped a bit before it was time to prepare to entertain our guests, bearing pizza from a nearby dive. These are folks we enjoy seeing on our visits here, and as the evening proceeded and more wine was consumed, we adjourned to the seating area in front of our blazing fire to catch up on developments over the last few months.

I had promised to behave more slavishly on this trip, though with discretion. Therefore I enjoy the little opportunities to fit our new lifestyle into everyday activities. I maneuvered you into an easy chair, your feet stretched onto a hassock, and me settled in at your feet. You were barefoot, your toes painted a deep red, ankles crossed. I took your left foot and began a slow massage as we talked to our friends.

This causal gesture seemed to have a compelling effect on our friend Joe. Within moments, he had gotten up from the little love seat opposite us, where he had been sitting with his wife, and sat on the edge of the hassock where your feet lay. It was not long before he was handling your right foot, sliding his fingers between her toes, and commenting on their shape and the texture of your skin. Odd.

You seemed amused. But did nothing to pull away, just thanked Joe for his complement, and the dual massages continued. It was as if you had two slaves now, worshiping your feet.

By now Joe’s wife and 20’s something daughter, and our two surly teens seemed amused by Joe’s foot fixation. (Our girls already think their parents are a little odd).

After a few more moments, I offered to trade feet with Joe, taking your right foot in hand and handing him your left. And when I kissed your toes and looked to Joe as if he should consider doing the same, that got the “yucks” coming from the girls, and seemed to make Joe realize that he had gotten a bit lost in his frank devotion to your lovely feet. I wonder what his wife had to say about all this as they bedded down for the night.

Through the evening, I noticed you disappear into our bedroom, presumably to go to the girl’s room. But I also wondered whether you were checking to see if there was any message from Sir. It’s the sort of speculation that may be misguided, but turns me on a bit. So what the hell.

But I did know from our talks that you were in the final stages of negotiating the terms of your “part time” surrender to Sir. It reminded me a bit of how we negotiated our contract a few months back. It was not much of a negotiation. You got what you wanted, as any slave owner should. But its important, and rather sexy, to know in advance what rights you are surrendering.

When our guests wandered off into the cold air, we buttoned up the house and headed to bed. As I walked into the room, you were already in some delightfully skimpy sleep wear, perched on the window ledge where you can get the limited cell reception available here. You smiled with a certain delight and said that Sir was texting about your offer to surrender. It seemed he had accepted your few conditions. That gave you an apparent thrill. You have an adventure to look forward to in the New Year when we get back to River City.

You told me your back was a bit sore, a signal to me not to press my luck for the third time that day. So we read a bit, but the thoughts running through my brain, and our further discussions made me want to slide between your thighs and suck on you a bit. When I asked permission you agreed, though I said I would have no expectations that would require you to strain that back.

Your thighs were creamy soft as I pressed my face against them, and your dripping cunt was creamy too. You seemed highly aroused even before the first touch of my tongue. I slowly took you to the edge of release, backed away a few times, then took you over the edge, which seemed to please and relax you, Mistress.

You reached for my cock, which was frustratingly hard again. “What should we do about this?” You asked. I knew that you had originally nixed making love, so I offered to masturbate for you, which you sometimes enjoy. “Maybe”, you said “but first, the glove”. You reached for the long black, zip up glove, pulled it on and then used it to work me slowly and gently with it, making me even more desperate.

Then you took me in your warm mouth for a while, turning up the temperature, until I was whining “please, Mistress”. Pulling your lips from my cock, you had me stroke myself with my hand while your gloved fingers cupped my balls until I was on the very verge.

It was at that point that you gave me the choice of fucking you, or coming into my own hand. A no-brainer.

After we were done, I was quite grateful and ready for sleep, but wondered whether my manipulative behavior was worthy of punishment.

Sunday, December 20, 2009

Why is it that my cock has more trouble with a time shift than the rest of me?

We arrived here just short of midnight Mountain Time, surly teens in tow, for our Christmas Holiday. It was a long travel day, though hardly a sexual draught for us. You let me take you yesterday morning, back home in River City, but only after I took my time worshiping your fragrant cunt as you read my morning homework.

There was packing to do and errands to run, but by noon we had that under control, and still 2 hours before heading to the airport. You napped some, I showered, and when I returned from the shower, all clean for you, I slid under the covers, not sure if you wanted to be wooed or left to rest.

Fortunately for me, you were waking from your slumber and turned to me, reaching for my cock. Its very well trained by now, and even the gentlest touch brings it to life. As you cupped me in your hand, I used my hand to tease your cunt through those soft, lacy undies, colored a soft gray that complements your olive skin.

We murmured about upcoming plans and your wandering curiosity, and soon my finger had you coming against it, gasping and jerking in little tasteful spasms as my mouth buried itself in your neck. You then allowed me to mount you, and we were in no hurry to finish the job. It would be a long day before we could crawl between the sheets again.

Traveling with teens does not allow the sort of physical and verbal interaction that we have come to enjoy, though I did take my opportunities to keep my hand buried possessively between your thighs through most of our flights. And as the cabin darkened on the second leg and we napped, you slid your head into my lap. After a few moments I could feel your fingers and tongue softly probing my crotch through those thick jeans. Unsurprisingly, my cock strained against the fabric, and it was hard for me not to squirm in my seat.

After 10 minutes or so of this treatment, a reminder that you have full title to all parts of me, you sat up and gave me a look of triumph, knowing how frustrated I had become, and that we still had 5 hours to go before I could expect to do anything about it. I suppose this was the sort of punishment a Slave deserves from time to time.

By the time we reached our little cabin on the edge of the mountains, it had been a long day. The teens headed straight to bed, I performed Sherpa duties fitting my slavish status, and you adjourned to our cozy wood trimmed bedroom. When I joined you, you had on some sexy nightwear that had been left in your stocking at an earlier Christmas. You told me it was time to strip, and insert that little white probe.

The probe reminds me of your power over me, Mistress. Being penetrated at your command re-enforces that submissive impulse you have used to bring me to heel these last few months. And of course there are certain physical effects when it slides inside me. As I stood next to the bed, you commented on how my cock was getting fuller before your eyes, even without a touch. So true. Then you reached out to handle it, using your fingers to prompt it further. Soon it was more than ready for you.

But it seemed only fair that I take to my knees and worship you first. You shifted your body around, and extended your legs so that they wrapped around my neck and I plunged into the task. I like to draw the orgasm out of you, and so between nibbles and suck I questioned you further about your reactions to your recent “interview”, a subject which seems to get both of our motors running.

Somewhere in midsentence you paused, groaned and let your hips ride a bit harder against my mouth, then relaxed your legs down around my neck and back. Mission accomplished.

With that, I was allowed to join you in bed, and made love with the passion that always has come to us out here, in our little mountain hideaway.

We read a bit, but soon I faded away into to a deep sleep. But when I woke around 5:30 Mountain time it was my hard cock that kept me from rolling over and drifting off again. It was too frustrating to press against you, knowing that you needed a few hours more sleep before we head up to the Ski Mountain. So here I am at my keyboard, the soft light of dawn lighting up the snow on the ground.

Saturday, December 19, 2009

One afternoon this week, I hosted an annual Holiday lunch for some clients and colleagues. It’s an event that has been on my calendar for more than 10 years. It’s always a convivial affair, a chance to say thanks, network, reconnect and celebrate the year’s accomplishments. Sometimes my lunch is at our home; other times at a local restaurant. This year I picked the restaurant option: upstairs in a private dining room in an old German stube, with rich wood paneling, on a hill overlooking our big river.

Mistress (well she was “just” Molly then) would often act as my congenial co-host. And it was always good to have her there. But because of our crazy, nomadic existence until January 2009, Mistress had gone missing at these events in recent years. So it was very nice to have her at my side, greeting my clients and their staff, 25 or so, as they entered, ordered drinks, milled about, and dug into the potato pancakes appetizers.

Of course, the last time Mistress co-hosted one of these events, she was my younger beautiful wife. Today she was my younger, beautiful Mistress. And though I was not collared or leashed, I did have my cage locked on tight underneath my stuffy business suit and tie.

Mistress was dressed conservatively, but with style and a certain sexy flair: long hair down and full. Black form fitting dress wrapped around her, ending just above her knees, finished with the black tights and boots that make me want to fall to my knees when she enters the room. You have seen bits and pieces of that look in our pictures.

So how do the dynamics change at a business-y social event, after signing a contract to become my wife’s Slave?

My behavior is evolving, I suppose. And this was an event where I had to appear the Type A, in charge professional, to be trusted with my clients’ most important problems. Groveling probably would not enhance their confidence in me.

But I did noticed that I hovered more closely to her, made sure her drink was fresh, and assuring that she got first dibs on those potato pancakes she loves. Where in the past we might have circulated separately, talking to clumps of guests, we did more of our circulating together, and I found myself keeping a hand on her somewhere. An arm, shoulder, and when our backs were to the wall, her lovely bottom. Gentle caresses were the order of the day.

Molly always has made me look better, more accomplished and confident when she is at my side. She is a tall, young, confident knockout compared to her older, stuffier and now balding husband/slave. I can’t help notice men (and a few women) appraise her body, head to toe, with more than passing interest.

My friends and clients surely must wonder how she settled for me all those years ago. And I suspect some say to themselves: “If Mick landed her, he must have something going on….” Well there is something going on. But I doubt any of them suspect what our readers know about how this relationship has evolved.

As we sat for lunch, I made sure my chair was right next to Mistress, and we enjoyed chatting with the folks to our right and left. They were curious about Mistress’s work exploits these days, and she shared some common experiences with our lunch companions in her clever, competent manner.

What they did not see, was how my right hand had burrowed between her thighs, possessively, obsessively stroking the fabric of her back tights. You see there was something else driving Slave a bit crazy.

Mistress told me late that morning that she had arranged her initial, in person interview with her prospective Sir, to commence when our lunch concluded. An escalation in their interaction that took me a bit by surprise, but that I welcomed. This development had me on edge, driving me a bit crazy actually, with those confused emotions I have written about.

Mistress was a bit anxious too about her “date”. But she is a person of action, and was committed now to satisfying her curiosity about this fellow who had vowed to “own” her.

As my hand stroked her thigh, I thought about whether someone else might be handling her that way before the day was out. That thought made my cock twitch and strain inside that little cage.

Soon it was time for Mistress to go. I walked her to her car. Kissed her goodbye with a ferocity that fit the occasion, and wished her well. I had been tempted to slide her off into an adjoining room to give her a quick orgasm, but did not want to take the edge off her building sexual tension. We promised to stay in touch by text to assure all went well. And we did. And she came back safe and sound and interested in what the next step might be.

But what, if anything, happens next between Sir and Mistress is between them, and not for this correspondent to tell.

Because of our spontaneous middle of the night activities, it seemed I slept a little later than normal this morning. And you have asked me to wake you up early for pleasuring because of a breakfast appointment on your busy schedule. So today’s homework is a little abbreviated. It does not do justice to a very eventful day for us in and out of bed. So I may take the option available to the bloviators in Congress to “revise and extend” my remarks later today, or over the weekend.

You suggested the title of today’s entry – “Robo-Cock” – when you giggled and teased me as my penis stiffened again last nigh,t during some discussion we were having about Vanilla Mom’s blog. You liked her recent story “Under Contract” and we wondered if she had noticed the title of our blog before she wrote it. In any event, we both were flattered by her recent comment.

But the part of the discussion that got me going again concerned the potential Dom you had “interviewed” yesterday afternoon. Sounds like he was interviewing you as much as you were interviewing him. And that’s how it should be. The issue was “titles”. If your exploration proceeded, what would he expect you to call him? Sir, Master? Or did it matter? What would he call you? Slave? Pet?

The question is not yet resolved, but I must confess the thought of it all, and our playful discussion of it did begin to harden me, even though we had made love vigorously and with great satisfaction only an hour or so earlier.

You noted that about a year ago, when we spent too much time away from one another, and were struggling to get beyond my own felony offense, I was more than happy with one performance a day. Two at most. You said I would whine that a guy in his late 50’s was doing pretty well “getting it up” once a day.

So here we are, in the same town and my “problem” is that I am turned on or on-able at the drop of a sly remark, the taste and fragrance of the back of your neck, or the gentle caress of your fingers against my shaft as I head to work, suited up for battle.

Of course there is no one answer to my accelerating addiction to you in recent months. You have always got me going, Mistress, going back to the evening we met more than 23 years ago, when I spotted that early-20’s hotty in her stylish short dress, who lit up that rubber chicken political dinner. I could not tear my eyes off you once I noticed you at the next table. Thankfully, you decided to talk to me, because the late 30’s lawyer I was then was too intimidated to approach you.

It took quite a few months before I finally had the chance to see you out of your stylish attire. And the rest is torrid history.

But these last few months has taken that to a new and surprising level. What makes me so much more combustible? It must involve my decision to put all my mental and sexual energy in one basket by submitting to you completely. No more Mr. remote, aloof, disengaged for me. I know, your reaction: “It’s about time”. And it was long past time. The best decision I ever made.

That submission evolved over the months since July, 2008, and was enhanced to a large degree by our Contract, which I take very literally. It turns me on just to review it.

All of your little tricks helped me get there: the strap-on you use to remind me of your power, kneeling to worship you, sometimes with my hands tied behind my back, the croppings from time to time, and of course the cage you lock for me in the mornings before work, which contains and controls me through the day. The fact that you respond so dramatically in a sexual way to our activities is an important re-enforcement. I do love to please you, Mistress.

Finally, there is the recently discovered component involving your potential involvement with someone else. Why does that turn me on? Confusing emotions are involved. In part I like the added sexual energy you get from the attention of someone else. It’s quite noticeable. There is also “validation” for me to be confronted with the knowledge that someone else desires “my” woman. And the potential humiliation of having to share you with another man, and hearing about your exploits with him, compounds the submission and “slavish” feelings that have triggered all this crazy sexual energy in me. And you saw evidence of that last night from ”robo-cock”.

A hard cock doesn’t lie, Mistress.

Oops. Deadline has arrived. And I don’t want to lose my opportunity to share the hard cock that this writing has generated.

This morning, you read this blog before we made love and headed off to our respective work days. Our sex was overheated by our ongoing dialog about whether you will allow Sir to “own” you from time to time, and whether his training has already begun.

You looked particularly hot in some sexy undies as you slid on those tight black jeans. My cage was already locked on, and as we kissed goodbye, the subject of this blog and the hard to articulate reasons your interactions with Sir turn me on came up again. I said “Maybe if I think about it really hard I will figure it out, and the effect will go away.”